


Because Helen

by Verdant_Mercury



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, If like five minutes after it is post, MAG 160 Spoilers, Post-Apocalypse, Rescue, Slaughter! Melanie, Sorta? It's Helen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdant_Mercury/pseuds/Verdant_Mercury
Summary: MAG 160 SpoilersIt's a calm, normal day when the world ends. The sun is screaming; the sky is watching, and the distortion comes to visit Melanie and Georgie.





	Because Helen

It’s a calm, normal day when the world ends. Melanie wakes up the way she had for weeks, enveloped in the warm comfort of Georgie’s arms. Georgie's hair is a mess, and Melanie's isn't much better. She really has to pee, but she's stuck under the Admiral’s weight across her legs. Melanie barters for another few minutes when Georgie finally stirs awake. They get out of bed, eventually much to Admiral’s chagrin. They get dressed, and Georgie showers and smells clean and like vanilla when Melanie presses a kiss to her hair. They eat breakfast, Georgie goes to the shop, and Melanie works on using her cane properly and not swinging it when people get too helpful or handsy.

The sun is warm, the air is cool and Melanie enters their flat first. Georgie is getting the mail. Nothing but her usual determination (_Not spite, Georgie._) fueling her actions.

Then the world downshifts without a clutch. It tilts and her gut lurches with it as it shudders off whatever equilibrium it always has but now lost. The world cries out and Melanie shrieks right along with it. Like an elastic snapping, giving and pulling as she feels something _split_ open in and all around her.

All scream captured in a singular instant. There is a precipice she wants to fall into, feels it push from the edges of her awareness whilst also knowing there would be no climbing out of it again. A hole so familiar tears already burn in her eyes. Watched and Angry.

Melanie falls anyway, and the front door slams open as soon as she does.

It bangs loudly against the wall and she knows it’s not Georgie. She wouldn’t slam, no matter how the air felt, or how they all howled. Georgie wouldn’t make her instincts roil like that. Whatever it is, it steps with wet flesh against the floor, like a soiled paper towel thrown against a hard surface. It's moving, then she’s moving, already knowing her space by heart.

The sickening smell of metallic pungent fills the air. She’s at the sink, a hand plunging into the cold water where they had left their dishes to soak for 'a few minutes' hours ago. A handle, a knife Georgie had used to cut last night's dinner and there’s nothing but blood. Melanie falls upon it with rage, while also knowing that Georgie is around, she’s near and she won’t know how to use a knife like Melanie can. A part of her weeps as an all too familiar feeling encircles her heart. _Rage_, her mind cries. _Protect_, her heart wails. Her hands grips soft meat, digs in with her nails as she plunges in the knife wildly and she’s screaming. Melanie doesn’t know if she’s ever stopped.

She brings down the knife repeatedly until she can’t tell if it’s tears or blood slick against her face. From the taste in her mouth, it might just be blood. Melanie’s screams has changed somewhere, from uncontrolled anger to something wounded and low. She stops, slowly, her breathing coming in sharp gasps. Her knees sink into the soft meat underneath her, and Melanie staggers up and away. She catches herself against the couch. Steps at the front door, and Melanie stands up quickly but she wasn’t quick enough, and there’s now a meaty thing dead on the floor. Something skitters against the floor, scraping against the wooden floors like a dog. Her body tenses for the pain sure to follow.

_**Thwap**_. The sound of wood hitting meat, of bone that crunched beneath a sure swing. Three strong strikes, and she can hear the end table by the door break under the weight as something crashes against it. Their bowl for their keys smashes onto the floor and all falls silent. Melanie stands there, bloody with the knife as she waited for whatever it was to strike, to move. No eyes, but she could hear just fine. The shift of clothing by the door, the hollow clunk of wood bumping a wall.

“Mel,” Georgie breathes out, and Melanie starts to tremble. It starts from somewhere in her core, down her arms to the very tips of her finger. All of her shakes. Melanie made an aborted stepped from the flesh at her feet, and forward to where Georgie and all the comfort her presence promises. Her grip on the knife’s handle loosens and wavers.

“Wait,” Georgie. Her voice is steady, clear and strong.

Melanie stops. The world outside continues to scream.

“Don’t drop the knife. You could hurt yourself.” Melanie’s hands go white knuckled around it. She listens to the crunch of broken ceramic as Georgie steps over whatever mess was made. Melanie’s legs continue to tremble underneath her.

“I’m going to touch you, okay?” Georgie’s voice isn’t soft, or gentle and Melanie feels a rush of gratitude. She doesn’t need gentle right now, covered in the gore of something she just murdered in their flat. “Melanie,” Her tone was a bit sharper then, and Melanie nods.

A hand at her wrist, and Melanie flinches despite herself. Warm fingers wrap around her forearm, and slide down towards her hand, the one with the knife. A thumb smooths over the inside of her wrist before Georgie took the knife away. Melanie’s fingers twitch when she sets it just out of reach. Maybe, at table where they had just had their morning coffee’s a few hours ago?

“Are you okay?” Melanie startles at her own voice, low and grated as if she has just gargled glass.

“Am I-” Georgie’s voice is a rush, but still so steady. It's exasperation. “-_Melanie_.” A hand intertwines with the one that held the blade. She must be smearing blood onto Georgie’s hands, their connection damp with more than just sweat but Melanie can’t bring herself to care. She grips Georgie’s hand tightly, brings up the other and cradles Georige’s hands as if that would block out the part of her that rages for _more_. More blood and more targets for the rage and fear she’s shaking with. More meat to give away beneath her violence.

Suddenly, fear falls over her like an old friend and her words pour out of her. “I knew it, that, wasn’t you. I knew it.” Melanie can be upset over the disjointed mess that falls out of her mouth later. “I would-I couldn’t.” She needs to get it out. Melanie sucks in another sharp breath. “_Never you_.” Melanie wouldn’t hurt Georgie, but she’d certainly hurt _for_ Georgie. A difference that has to mean something, even as the world tilted hard on it’s axis. It’s hard to tell if that’s much better. Standing there she’s not the Melanie she had _just_ become accustomed to being again.

“I know.” Georgie’s tone softens but not by much. The rage cools down to a low simmer and settles into the marrow of her bones. Without her own scream to deafen her, Melanie hears the outside. It sounds like hell.

“What-” Melanie tries to clear her throat. "-happened?" It doesn't help.

“I don’t know.” Georgie’s hands still didn’t shake. They were steady as they held Melanie’s, a buoy against the torrent of emotions that threatened to overtake her once again. A thumb strokes her palm. “Something’s...something’s gone wrong.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from her throat because wasn’t that a bloody _fucking_ understatement. As soon as the sound leaves her mouth, Melanie shoves a hand against her lips as if she could shove it back down her throat. Too high, and too strangled to be anything but wrong. _Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong_. Like within a large building, cramped hallways in the night, tunnels, and dusty old archives. Like rage that hums away beneath her skin, her fingers that twitch for an outlet while her rational mind continues it’s screaming.

Melanie pulls her hand away from her mouth, and places her fingers against Georgie's wrist, feeling for the pulse. She presses her fingers down harder as she finds nothing there. She rips one of her hands away from Georgie's, and presses her fingers to her throat. She lets her, and Melanie rests her fingers at the hollow of her throat. It's slow almost to the point of being unsettling, but it's Georgie.

A very small bitter part of her screeches that this was Jon’s fault, somehow. The part of Melanie that’s been to therapy is still on the fence about it. At the very least, she thought she had let go of the resentment that was undeserved. Surely it couldn’t be anything but the _things_ from before and Jon was still involved in all of that, or he was up until a few weeks ago. No, he wasn't even anywhere near the Institute, but it doesn't stop that acrid taste that bubbles in her throat. Her eyes sting and Melanie shuts them.

Melanie had gotten out, she had been doing better, and then-

And then-

_And then_....

There was the scent of blood in the air, the warmth of Georgie’s body as she stood close but not enough that she felt trapped. The air felt wrong, but Georgie’s breaths were calm, heartbeat steady underneath her fingertips. They stood in silence, and the world outside the flat continued to go hell. Melanie has no idea what the two of them should do. They stand together for a considerable length of time.

In the end, it’s the creak of a familiar door that broke their spell. A sound she knows, and Melanie can barely stop herself from falling lax. Safety, even if Helen was meant to be anything but. Melanie drops her hand from Georgie's throat, and made a half step towards the door, her body jerked with the desire but went no further. Georgie still held onto her hand.

“Helen,” Melanie greeted, a bit blandly. Maybe the shock was kicking in.

“Oh, _This_ is Helen.” Georgie was the next to speak. They had talked about things before, and Helen had been one of the very, very few things that Melanie could think of fondly. That is, until she remembers how Helen had changed afterwards, but, then again so had Melanie. Guilt had been a new one, but when she remembered how Helen had been nearer the end. Less Helen, more Distortion, well. Wasn’t a hard leap to guess why the guilt had been there. Georgie said Helen wasn’t her fault.

“Yes, I’m Helen.” She says it like one would tell a joke. A poorly timed one, at best. Melanie knows she wouldn’t have done that before.

The three of them lapse into a brief silence broken only by a meaty shout from the streets outside.

“What’s going on?” Georgie’s tone plain.

“Terrible things,” Helen answers, and she laughs. The sound bounces around the room as if she was everywhere and nowhere at once. Melanie used to like that laugh, in a weird way. Something scrapes against the far wall, a sound that made Melanie want to sway along as if it were music.

"Everywhere?" Georgie asks.

“All over the world,” Helen draws the words out, savors them before she lets out another laugh that left Melanie’s teeth cold in her mouth.

Melanie waited until Helen’s mirth stops it’s arching twists in the air. “Why are you here then?”

Another silence. Georgie shifts next to her, the slightest movement.

“I thought I might take you. But now,” Helen’s delight was clear. “I don’t think I know. Maybe...I am just here to offer a door.” Melanie had only a single thing to say to that. She opens her mouth, and Georgie moves. Melanie doesn’t need her eyes to know that Georgie stands in front of her now, one hand back to still hold onto Melanie. She squeezes.

“Why?” Georgie. Her fearless Georgie. The part of _before_ hates that she wants to protect her.

“Why indeed?”

“Helen.” Melanie forces as much strength through her tattered throat.

“You know...I always liked how you did that. Called me Helen, even when your _others_ didn’t. I almost felt like Helen, in those brief, seconds. I always was, mind you, but I also was not. It was a nice feeling anyway.” Helen’s wiggled her fingers, the sharped edges of them echos through the air. “Maybe it’s because you were kind, even with the Slaughter's song in your mind then,” Her voice was still soaked in amusement. “Perhaps, even now? You can hear it, can’t you? Terrible, and wonderful.” Helen let out a little sigh, half wistful.

“Are you asking us if we want to come with you?” Melanie’s mind races through all of what Helen has said, and what she hasn’t.

“...Yes.” A pause. “I think.”

Georgie still doesn’t move from where she’s standing. Most of her can’t help but feel a rush of love for the other woman.

Helen continues. “You could stay here, I suppose but with me, _well_, you might have an easier time than the rest of those people out there,” Helen must be waving her hand with the sound in the air, like metal. Yet another thing she became fond of nearer their friendships...break.

“Give us a minute,” Melanie croaks out, and Georgie's hand tightens in her grip.

“You have all the time in the world,” That one was _definitely_ a joke. Helen’s door opens, creaks closed painfully slow, and cuts off her laugh.

“Mel,” Georgie wastes no time.

“Gi, I know but-”

“We-”

“We can’t stay here!”

“Do you trust..her?” Georgie’s question stops her in her tracks.

“I...”

“Melanie, do you trust this, Helen?” Georgie’s voice is firm.

“I...yes.” Even then, even after it all. "I trust her," God, how long did Melanie spend with her in the tunnels, hours where she couldn’t stand to be alone, nor be around anyone who couldn’t handle her aggression. It was still Helen.

“Okay,” Melanie can feel her eyebrows raise at that.

“What, just like that?”

“It’s not like we have a lot of options here, Melanie.”

“I...right.” Georgie squeezes her hand, and half leads her to sink where Melanie then tries to get some of the blood that had already started to dry from her hands. Tacky and damp and useless in the cold water of the sink. It’s grounding, though as Georgie ran around their flat. A flurry of movement that Melanie can’t just not be aware of, packing up bits of their life together. The Admiral brushed against her leg, a low meow came from him. Melanie wiped her hands on her jeans and bent down to pick him up. He clung to her almost immediately, the claws dug past her shirt, and into the skin.

“Shh, I know.” Melanie wished she didn’t. Christ, she wishes she didn’t. Helen’s door creaks open. Neither of them has knocked yet and apparently they didn't need to.

“You’ve come to a decision then?”

“Yes, we’re uh, we’re coming with you.”

“For the best, I’m sure.” Helen’s voice was close, and Melanie feels her brush past, just close enough for the air to shiver around her. Something scrapes against the table and a hand that felt weird and bony brushes against her own. With the feather light touches, Helen maneuvered Melanie’s palm up, her fingers ghosting against her skin and deposits the previously discarded knife there. The weight is a comfort. Helen continues to cradle her hand and gives it the barest squeeze, and it cuts her skin anyways.

Georgie clears her throat.

“Take this, please,” Georgie says, but not to her. The rustle of the fabric, and Helen chuckles quietly. She moves away, there’s gentle graze against Melanie’s hand as she goes that leaves stings like paper cuts.

"Of course," Helen hums.

Melanie hears Georgie's steps approach, a hand that gently runs along her forearm, soft and warm against her skin, then to the Admiral. Georgie pulls him into her arms. Then, she takes Melanie's hand again. Georgie’s either magically grown an extra hand, or she’s holding the Admiral with one arm. She uses her free (And presumably not a third) hand and tugs Melanie towards Helen's door.

"It's gonna be...weird in there." Melanie warns.

"Maybe not so much for your-" Helen pauses and lets the silence get to almost uncomfortable before she finishes. "-person, there." Of course, she doesn't bother to elaborate further.

One hand held the knife, Georgie had the Admiral, and they both had each other. They approached the door, and Helen opens it for them.

“What’s in the sky?” Melanie asks. She feels she knows the answer, but needs to know for sure.

“Eyes,” Helen responds without missing a beat.

Melanie tugged on Georgie's hand until she lets go. Melanie half turned towards their windows, lifts her arm, and flips it off with bloodstained hands. Just giants Eyeballs, or Elias, it doesn’t matter who sees it. Something does and that’s all that matters. Then, she held her hand back out for Georgie to take again. She can hear the Admiral’s quiet little meow as they approach the door.

“After you,”

They enter together.

**Author's Note:**

> The working titles for this was both: Melanie was Kind and Helen gets girlfriends.
> 
> Feel free to come shout with me at my [tumblr](https://possibly-not-a-ghost.tumblr.com/).


End file.
